A gentle stream meanders through the mossy stones, Whispering tales of forgotten times and ancient tones. Silver fish dart ‘neath the willow’s trailing shade, Where dreams and reality softly fade. A traveler pauses, hearing the water’s sigh, Remembering old loves beneath the same sky. The brook flows on, never asking where or why, Carrying secrets as the clouds drift by. Yet in its murmur, a truth lies clear and deep: The peace we seek is ours to keep.
